


silhouettes

by craftingdead



Series: charlie will make cd a common tag if it kills them [1]
Category: The Crafting Dead
Genre: Gen, Inspired by Music, vaguely mentioned eating disorders kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 07:57:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15044270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/craftingdead/pseuds/craftingdead
Summary: Today was a good day. He’s hungry as hell (when is he not?), sure—but, dancing over dangling arms and with laughter bubbling in his throat, nothing could go wrong.(Silhouettes - Of Monsters and Men)





	silhouettes

His arms are sore. Carrying a load of books, scarf limply hanging around his waist.

But, he can’t really deny the fact: it wasn’t the worst of days, hell, it was one of the best they’ve had in a while.

Today was a good day. He’s hungry as hell (when is he not?), sure—but, dancing over dangling arms and with laughter bubbling in his throat, nothing could go wrong.

Dad wasn’t home, Dee was at a friends house, halfway across the country with Mom (custody problems, the usual) and they had the house all to themselves for the night. Which means no one could blame him if he accidentally burnt something down. It was Dad’s choice to leave them alone, two young teens on a cool summers night.

The books he had been carrying fell over themselves as he placed them on the small dinner table, clattering to the floor in a pile.

A light murmur comes from the doorway, muttering something that sounds like "idiot." 

He can’t completely see her—the door screen is covering her shape, leaving a vague sister-shaped shadow in the doorway. But he can see her hair, a red fountain hanging out in front of her as she reaches for something.

He smiles to himself, bending over to pick up the books.

His scarf loosens around his waist, shifting down to brush against his bare thighs, scarcely covered by shorts. She had a matching pair, and they’d always wear them together. It was stupid, in hindsight, but it was a thing they did. 

When he straightens himself back up, his sister’s gone, her silhouette disappearing from its spot in the doorway. He frowns.

“...Shelby?”

Nick wakes up to a grimy ceiling and the sound of gunshots. A faint, cool summers breeze is fading from his room out onto the streets. He grimaces, and pulls himself from the bed, scanning his brain for the dream that had come and gone as fast as anything remotely entertaining in this new-found world (damn you, Shark, for over-using jokes). A silhouette of a person stood in his doorway, gesturing to him.

“Yo, Nick, come check this out!”

He shrugged to himself.

Must’ve been nothing.


End file.
